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| (C) 2013 by the Estate of Maurice Sendak. |
My Brother’s Book,
the last book completed by Maurice Sendak before he died in May of 2012, was
published ten days ago and it has already sparked a number of interesting literary
associations ranging from Shakespeare to Austen. It makes sense that a number of reviews so
far have examined the book through a Shakespearean lens—one reason being that
no less a Shakespeare scholar than Stephen Greenblatt wrote the foreword to the
book and recently published a reflection on it in the New York Times,
and no less a playwright than Sendak’s friend and collaborator Tony Kushner has
done interviews about the book for NPR and elsewhere. As both Greenblatt and Kushner have noted,
Sendak’s love of Shakespeare ran deep, and My
Brother’s Book makes use of characters—among them a bear—dialogue, and
motifs from Shakespeare’s late “romance” A
Winter’s Tale (ca. 1610-11).
the last book completed by Maurice Sendak before he died in May of 2012, was
published ten days ago and it has already sparked a number of interesting literary
associations ranging from Shakespeare to Austen. It makes sense that a number of reviews so
far have examined the book through a Shakespearean lens—one reason being that
no less a Shakespeare scholar than Stephen Greenblatt wrote the foreword to the
book and recently published a reflection on it in the New York Times,
and no less a playwright than Sendak’s friend and collaborator Tony Kushner has
done interviews about the book for NPR and elsewhere. As both Greenblatt and Kushner have noted,
Sendak’s love of Shakespeare ran deep, and My
Brother’s Book makes use of characters—among them a bear—dialogue, and
motifs from Shakespeare’s late “romance” A
Winter’s Tale (ca. 1610-11).
But as is true for most of his books, Sendak conjured My Brother’s Book from more than one
element, drawing on not just Shakespeare but venturing into the cosmic imagery
of William Blake, echoing the fraternal bonds of Theo and Vincent van Gogh
(whom Sendak greatly admired), and giving shape to existential questions Sendak
grappled with after the deaths of those closest to him, including his partner
of 50 years, Eugene Glynn, and his own brother, Jack. Five years Maurice’s senior, it was Jack who
co-oped “Maury” (as Maurice was sometimes known during their childhood in Brooklyn) into
illustrating the outlandish tales he wrote when they were kids (Sendak recalled
one of those stories, “They Are Inseparable,” in this interview we did with him
in 2007). Maurice said they were like the Brothers
Grimm, and he always looked up to his big brother and his big
imagination. The Brothers Sendak
collaborated on two books together: The
Happy Rain (1956) and Circus Girl
(1957). When Jack died, Maurice
struggled to give expression to his grief.
In another interview (while it’s not available online it is on our DVD There’s a Mystery There: Sendak on Sendak),
Sendak talked about how a favorite weeping cherry tree outside his studio
window happened to bear the brunt of his sorrow: “I quit noting that tree right
after my brother died. I thought if my
brother could die, then I don’t care about that tree. So I took it out on the tree. The tree was no more aware of me taking it
out than it was when I hugged and kissed it.”
Sendak’s other, and more important outlet for his grief was poetry, and
he began writing the poem that eventually became My Brother’s Book. In the
story, a fairy-like “meadow bird,” assisting Guy in his quest to find his lost
brother, says, “Ask of the wild cherry tree: Does he live? Is he dead?”
At the book’s climax Guy finds his way from a winter limbo to a kind of
spring-time purgatory, “Its caverns and corridors paved with painted petals,
wound round a wild cherry tree dusted pink,” where he finds his exiled sibling.
Just as Max imagines a forest growing in
his bedroom in Where the Wild Things Are,
Sendak associated nature with an escape to another world in My Brother’s Book, the key difference being
that Max returns from that place to his world as it was, while Guy’s world is
forever altered, shattered, and without the promise of return. Yet the ending of the book—the reunion of Guy
with his brother Jack amidst the branches of the cherry tree—implies a certain
reconciliation with that loss because it is not really a loss at all, but a transformation,
a “sea change” to borrow again from Shakespeare.
element, drawing on not just Shakespeare but venturing into the cosmic imagery
of William Blake, echoing the fraternal bonds of Theo and Vincent van Gogh
(whom Sendak greatly admired), and giving shape to existential questions Sendak
grappled with after the deaths of those closest to him, including his partner
of 50 years, Eugene Glynn, and his own brother, Jack. Five years Maurice’s senior, it was Jack who
co-oped “Maury” (as Maurice was sometimes known during their childhood in Brooklyn) into
illustrating the outlandish tales he wrote when they were kids (Sendak recalled
one of those stories, “They Are Inseparable,” in this interview we did with him
in 2007). Maurice said they were like the Brothers
Grimm, and he always looked up to his big brother and his big
imagination. The Brothers Sendak
collaborated on two books together: The
Happy Rain (1956) and Circus Girl
(1957). When Jack died, Maurice
struggled to give expression to his grief.
In another interview (while it’s not available online it is on our DVD There’s a Mystery There: Sendak on Sendak),
Sendak talked about how a favorite weeping cherry tree outside his studio
window happened to bear the brunt of his sorrow: “I quit noting that tree right
after my brother died. I thought if my
brother could die, then I don’t care about that tree. So I took it out on the tree. The tree was no more aware of me taking it
out than it was when I hugged and kissed it.”
Sendak’s other, and more important outlet for his grief was poetry, and
he began writing the poem that eventually became My Brother’s Book. In the
story, a fairy-like “meadow bird,” assisting Guy in his quest to find his lost
brother, says, “Ask of the wild cherry tree: Does he live? Is he dead?”
At the book’s climax Guy finds his way from a winter limbo to a kind of
spring-time purgatory, “Its caverns and corridors paved with painted petals,
wound round a wild cherry tree dusted pink,” where he finds his exiled sibling.
Just as Max imagines a forest growing in
his bedroom in Where the Wild Things Are,
Sendak associated nature with an escape to another world in My Brother’s Book, the key difference being
that Max returns from that place to his world as it was, while Guy’s world is
forever altered, shattered, and without the promise of return. Yet the ending of the book—the reunion of Guy
with his brother Jack amidst the branches of the cherry tree—implies a certain
reconciliation with that loss because it is not really a loss at all, but a transformation,
a “sea change” to borrow again from Shakespeare.
My Brother’s Book is
an unusually cosmic book for Sendak, taking place across continents, galaxies,
constellations, and netherworlds. But at
the center of this vastness we see Sendak again wrestling with death and what
lies beyond. My Brother’s Book may be more Sendak’s Tempest than his Winter’s
Tale. It begins with a similar violence
from the heavens, stages its own monstrosities (the bear) and ethereal spirits
(the “meadow bird”), and acts as Sendak’s literary goodbye: just as Prospero
voiced Shakespeare’s farewell to theater (recall his “we are such stuff as
dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with a sleep” speech), so
Sendak signed off his final book, “Goodnight, and you will dream of me.”
an unusually cosmic book for Sendak, taking place across continents, galaxies,
constellations, and netherworlds. But at
the center of this vastness we see Sendak again wrestling with death and what
lies beyond. My Brother’s Book may be more Sendak’s Tempest than his Winter’s
Tale. It begins with a similar violence
from the heavens, stages its own monstrosities (the bear) and ethereal spirits
(the “meadow bird”), and acts as Sendak’s literary goodbye: just as Prospero
voiced Shakespeare’s farewell to theater (recall his “we are such stuff as
dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with a sleep” speech), so
Sendak signed off his final book, “Goodnight, and you will dream of me.”
Tell us what you think about Sendak’s posthumous book: What literary and artistic associations do you see? What other Sendak books does it bring to mind?
–Patrick Rodgers is the Curator of the Maurice Sendak Collection at the Rosenbach Museum and Library